Everyone Needs a Little Jack in their Life - Part One (Compass)
by Kelcor
Summary: Some missing scenes from Compass. Lots of h/c, so if that's not your thing, this story probably won't be to your liking. :-) Part One of a series, but each will stand on its own. Also a sequel to Compass Points to Normal. :-) Hurt!Mac, Angsty!Mac, Fatherly!Jack. No Slash. Just bromance and h/c galore! ;-) Rated K to be safe. COMPLETE.


A/N This is part one of a series of tags I have planned, filled with h/c and bromance, and a few surprises along the way. :-) Each story will basically stand on its own but will feel more fleshed out if read in the order they are posted. That said, this is a sequel to Compass Points to Normal which was born from a prompt by the wonderful Gib and started this huge ball rolling towards a grand finale I've been trying to get out of my system for a few months now! I hope you all enjoy Part One! I plan to have Part Two up soon! :-) ~Kelcor

Everyone Needs a Little Jack in their Life - Part One (Compass)

" _Mac, help me!"_

 _MacGyver spun around in a circle, seeking out the source of the plea which had an odd echo – as if two people were speaking almost simultaneously. "Where are you?" he yelled._

" _Over here! Help me!"_

 _The echo bounced around him, seeming to come from two different directions. Finally, he saw something in the haze of smoke surrounding him. He couldn't quite make it out but stepped towards it, anyway. Someone he cared about needed help but the voice was too garbled for him to know who._

" _Mac, please!"_

 _There! It came from behind him and this time, he recognized the voice. It was Frankie! He spun back in that direction, moving at a trot!_

" _Mac, I need your help!"_

 _MacGyver skidded to a halt. "Jack?"_

 _In front of him, the haze turned to smoke and bright yellow and orange flames licked out at him. Amidst the flame, Frankie reached one hand towards him. "Mac, help!"_

 _Horrified, he took a step in her direction. "Mac, bud! I need you!"_

 _Mac spun to look behind him and almost tripped over Jack, stretched out on the ground at his feet. His eyes were closed, his arms crossed over his chest as if… "NOOO!" Jack's eyes snapped open and he fought at an invisible adversary, seemingly holding him in a vise-like grip. His desperate gaze found MacGyver. He shouted at Mac to help him but no voice could be heard! Mac lurched toward him! He had to get him out!_

 _A deep rumbling beneath his feet knocked MacGyver to the ground. He looked up as a large oak tree grew impossibly fast next to him. Suddenly, the ground opened up and swallowed Jack, leaving behind no proof that he had ever been there in the first place! Mac dropped to his knees, digging frantically at the dirt with his bare hands. "JACK!"_

 _Frankie shrieked! Mac spun back around. The flames were devouring her now! "FRANKIE!"_

 _He froze! Who was he supposed to help? He couldn't save them both!_

* * *

Mac jerked awake with a choked cry! The walls of the plane, the seats surrounding him, everything began to slowly filter back into view. The pilot's voice came over the PA, announcing that the plane was arriving in Boston on schedule. Mac breathed a sigh of relief as he realized it had all been a dream. Except for the part where Frankie died in a fire, he thought grimly.

Wiping at his damp face, he surreptitiously glanced at the passengers around him. Having purchased the two seats next to him to guarantee a modicum of privacy on his flight, no one seemed to be close enough to have been privy to his recent torment. Thankful, he numbly picked up the book that had fallen from his lap to the floor, stuffing it into his knapsack as the pilot began landing procedures.

Clicking his seatbelt into place reminded him of the return from Bogoda the day before – had that really only been 24 hours ago? – which, of course, prompted a visual image of Jack in a make-shift sling; then the debrief with Matty and the rest of the team; the call from Smitty echoed in his mind.

Bozer had tried to comfort him immediately after receiving the news about Frankie but, although Bozer was like a brother to him, Mac always kinda felt like the _older_ brother which meant he felt the need to protect Bozer – which meant, when his friend had hugged him, it was okay because it had seemed like Mac was making _Bozer_ feel better instead of the other way around.

Mac had remained in control; his walls hadn't faltered.

Jack, on the other hand, was the father figure Mac had never really had – even _before_ his father walked out on him, his actions as 'dad' paled in comparison to those of Jack Dalton. Which was precisely why he hadn't called Jack to tell him about Frankie.

See, Mac never liked to cry. After so many people in his life walking away, and so many others using his pain to their own advantage, the blond had trained himself to bottle everything up and hide it from the world in a sort of emotional Fort Knox.

And Jack Dalton was the only one who had ever found a way to push his way through those locked doors; worse than that, he'd found a way to dismantle the doors altogether. And Mac dreaded that someday he wouldn't be able to put them back up; that he wouldn't be able to push his pain away and would amount to nothing more than a crumbled mess on the floor, never able to stand up on his own two feet again.

But, even with all those fears, the thought of Matty separating them scared him like nothing else could because as much as Jack's over-protective streak sometimes annoyed the heck out of him, Mac had come to depend on it. It was the normal in MacGyver's perpendicular world of pain and abandonment. It had taken years – _years_ – for Mac to finally believe that Jack wouldn't leave him like his dad had done; taking comfort in the realization that he also had some control over whether or not Jack left him in a more permanent, irreversible way.

The knowledge that he was to blame for Jack breaking his arm in Argentina, coupled with the fact that injury was the proverbial launching pad for Matty's perception that breaking them up would be the best thing for both of them, was eating Mac up inside. Because, if Mac wasn't watching Jack's six, that meant he would have to trust _someone else_ to keep him from dying… and that just wasn't acceptable.

A small part of him; a part that was buried way deep down where even he would be hard pressed to find it; believed that something _he_ had done pushed his father out the door all those years ago. He rarely gave credence to the idea because the adult MacGyver knew it wasn't logical to think that a 12-year-old boy could have caused his own abandonment. But that thought came back to haunt him now because if Jack left him because of the fiasco in Bogoda, voluntarily or not, it really _would_ be _all his fault!_

That morning, as he walked through the airport, eyes grainy from lack of sleep but for a nightmare-filled half hour nap, Mac came to the reluctant realization that meeting Jack all those years ago was like a crucial missing piece had been found and strategically placed into his life-puzzle; telling him that he just wouldn't be whole without Jack in his life.

 _There are some things that go through my head that Jack Dalton never needs to know. And that little puzzle analogy was_ _definitely_ _one of those things. Another was the fact that I kinda wished I had called him, after all. Facing this memorial service on my own was… What the - ?_

Mac was only mildly surprised when he saw Jack in a black suit and tie, posing as a chauffeur and waiting for him outside Logan International airport with a limousine. It was a total 'Jack' thing to do, and the fact that MacGyver hadn't been expecting his best friend to show up was a testament to how much Frankie's death had affected him.

He fought the fond smile twitching at his lips. "The suit's a nice touch," he allowed.

"You sure? I was worried it might be a bit over the top, but I look good."

"No, no. Over the top would've been using the Phoenix jet to get to Boston before me? Renting this car and meeting me here with that sign, the hat and the gloves are just the cherry on top of a banana split of weird decisions."

"Bozer called me and told me what happened. And sure, I missed a mandatory rehab session for my arm but I wanted to be here for ya', man," he said sincerely, before stepping to the side, holding the back door of the limousine open and waiting for Mac to get inside. "Here you go, sir!" he exclaimed, playing the chauffeur shtick to the hilt.

MacGyver grinned and shook his head. He may have even laughed out loud if it wasn't for the circumstances surrounding his visit to Boston. So, instead, he tossed his stuff into the back, then sidestepped Jack to take his rightful spot in the front. Next to Jack.

"You know, it's a well-known fact that people who sit up front don't tip as well," Jack began, as Mac got in and closed the door, giving off a clear signal that he was not changing his mind. "So, I have that to look forward to," he finished as he rounded the front of the limo, pretty much talking to himself by that point.

* * *

Shortly after establishing that Mac had been in love with Frankie, and that he was certain she'd been out of his league because she was smarter than him – which Jack still refused to believe – several long moments of silence filled the car. Finally, unable to take any more, Jack asked, "So, where to?"

"The memorial isn't until three, so I want to visit with Frankie's parents for a bit first."

"Her parents?"

"Jack," MacGyver said, feeling his hackles rise already. "I owe them that much. I owe _Frankie_ that much!"

"Dude, relax, I get it. But do you really want to wake them up at seven in the morning on the day that they're goin' to be buryin' their daughter?"

Mac opened his mouth to respond but promptly snapped it shut and glanced at the time on the dashboard. "I – I, uh, hadn't thought about that," he stammered.

"Of course, you didn't," Jack returned. "Because you barely slept at all last night, did you!?"

"I've completed missions with little to no sleep before, Jack. And I've always been fine."

"Okay, first," Jack said, flicking his gaze between the road and his friend, "that was more a necessity than a choice – and correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm thinking this time it was a choice, right? To keep from havin' the nightmares that ginormous brain of yours likes to conjure up?"

"Jack – "

"And, second," Jack interjected, "none of those missions took place hours after finding out that a close friend died." The last was added gently, because Jack knew MacGyver's nerves were sure to be scratched raw and he wanted the kid to open up to him, not do the opposite and shut him out completely.

The way the blue eyes instantly averted themselves to gaze out the passenger side window, and apparently discovered something profoundly interesting on the empty roadway, was proof that Jack had indeed hit one or more of those scratched nerves. He just hoped it wasn't one of the ones that would stick the key in the hole and lock the door.

"I know you, Mac," he said carefully. "Something like this happens and you bury everything down deep and shut everyone out. Don't shut me out, man."

MacGyver smirked despite himself and turned enough to cut his eyes to his partner. "No point in shutting you out, Jack. You'd just kick the door in, anyway."

"You're darn right I would," Jack agreed solemnly.

Sensing the sincerity in the words, knowing them to be true even before they were uttered, Mac blushed slightly. "I know that," he said softly. "But I'm fine, Jack. Really."

Jack huffed in response. "I'll be the judge of that. In the meantime, I booked us a room with two double beds, so you can get some sleep – "

"No!" MacGyver said a little too forcefully, then caught himself. "I mean, I'm not tired."

"So, you have been having nightmares," Jack declared. It wasn't a question.

Mac pulled a paperclip out of his suit pocket. Jack watched him focus all his attention on whatever creation he had in mind for the tiny piece of metal and knew that he'd pushed too far, too soon.

"Okay," he compromised, "but it's still too early to pay condolences to Frankie's folks. So, how about some breakfast?"

"Not hungry," Mac mumbled without looking up.

"Come on, man. I'm tryin' here. You know I'm just worried about ya'."

This time, the blond head did come up and the blue eyes locked with Jack's brown ones. "I know," he conceded. "Okay," he added after a moment. "But I'm only having coffee."

"Coffee isn't breakfast," Jack scowled.

"It is for me."

"Coffee and pancakes," Jack told him.

"When did my breakfast choices become a negotiation?" Mac griped.

Jack gave him a look that oozed Delta Commando and MacGyver knew any further argument was pointless. "Fine," he finally agreed, not missing the triumphant smile on his partner's face.

Sometimes the smallest things seemed to make Jack happy. And the fact that Mac's welfare was usually at the centre of those things, made him wish that Jack really _had_ been his dad. Because a father who was truly made happy by the mere fact that his son was healthy and happy would never abandon said son at the tender age of 12… would he?

* * *

Sitting in the diner, Jack watched MacGyver pick at his pancakes. He'd taken all of about three bites, and even those had been small ones. Yet, three cups of coffee had been consumed in the time that it had taken Jack to finish his first.

This Frankie must've been one heck of a girl if her passing was having this kind of profound affect on the kid. Leaving Jack to figure out how to get through to a blond genius who was predisposed to show little to no vulnerability to anyone – even his best friend. Couldn't blame him after a life of being abandoned by those he loved the most.

First, his mother had died after a too-short fight with Cancer. Not her fault, of course. But still, she was gone. Then, his dad left voluntarily to parts unknown, entrusting Mac in the hands of his grandfather – and Jack had no idea where _he_ was, though he was fairly certain the man was still alive. And, of course, we can't forget the oh-so-wonderful Nikki, whom Jack still wasn't sure had been completely forthcoming with her role in the whole Patty fiasco. And now, Frankie.

Why did everyone keep leaving this kid? And how the heck was Jack supposed to prove that his name would never be on that list? At least, not by choice. A life in the spy game never came with a guarantee that you'd always come home alive but Jack would promise; pinky-swear; place his left hand on a Bible and raise his right in the air; whatever the kid needed, just to make him believe the honest-to-God truth that he would never, ever leave him!

Mac was just taking yet another gulp of coffee when the waitress stopped at their table, order pad and pen in hand as she turned to Jack. "Is there anything else I can get for you and your son?"

The coffee in Mac's mouth made a prompt reappearance, splattering all over his pancakes and some of the table. "Sorry," he mumbled, unable to completely hide his smirk as he got up to grab some additional napkins from a nearby table and began cleaning up the mess.

"No, thank you," Jack said, casting a withering glare at the blond across the table from him.

Confused, the waitress left the bill on the table and walked away, casting glances over her shoulder at them until she rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"I guess, she couldn't miss the salt 'n pepper in your hair," Mac quipped, clearly not bothering to mention the irony of her assumption with what he had been thinking about less than an hour earlier.

Suddenly, Jack grinned. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, grabbed the bill with the same hand and headed for the front cash.

"What are you smiling about?" Mac asked, perplexed as he fell into step next to his partner.

"Nothing," Jack told him. "Nothing at all." In truth, just hearing Mac laugh again made the 'old' comment worth all the money in the world. Besides, he'd be honoured to call Angus MacGyver his son.

* * *

The visit with Frankie's parents had been much more difficult than Mac had expected. The tearful reunion had stretched his already taut nerves to the breaking point.

Frankie's mom had wrapped her arms around his waist, and pulled him close. As he returned the embrace, it took all the strength he had not to break down right then and there. Then Mr. Mallory, standing a few inches taller than Mac, had done much the same as his wife; except his arms went around Mac's shoulders, offering consolation more than receiving it; holding him as if sensing that MacGyver needed the comfort just as much as he did!

So much for Jack being the only one able to get through his walls!

Pulling politely away from the embrace, Mac averted his eyes, desperately needing a moment to pull himself together. Which was why he was thankful beyond belief when Jack stepped up to offer his own condolences to the grieving couple, taking the attention off Mac for a few blessed minutes.

Back in the car, Mac didn't even know where they were headed. He just rested his forehead against the glass of the passenger side window, gathering his strength for the hours to come. He didn't even notice as Jack pulled the car over to the side of the road until the rumble of the engine disappeared and he felt a calloused palm grip the back of his neck.

The tug that followed was gentle. Mac kept his eyes squeezed shut even as he said, "Jack… _please._ " He didn't know what he was pleading for, just that Jack was the only one who could provide it. The next tug was more insistent. " _Jack_ ," he choked, dismayed to feel the stray tear slipping past his defenses and making a trail down his cheek.

"Come on, bud," Jack whispered, inching his way across the bench seat and pulling Mac away from the window.

Unable to resist any longer, MacGyver finally allowed himself to be tugged into his friend's side. This wasn't something Mac was used to, so he had no idea what to do next. But Jack took care of that for him when he reached up and turned Mac's face to press against the side of his neck.

For a few moments, Mac simply breathed deeply, taking what strength he could from his partner's scent, striving to get control of himself.

"It's just us here this time, kiddo," Jack said softly. "Just feel what you need to feel. Let me take some of that load from your shoulders, brother."

The tears came then, silent and steady. The hand cupping the back of his head shifted, and he felt himself pulled impossibly closer, his quaking shoulders gripped tightly in a one-armed embrace. Seemingly of their own accord, Mac's hands came up between them, instinctively avoiding the injured arm and gripping Jack's black jacket in white knuckled fists.

And, at least for a moment, he found comfort in the cocoon of safety currently wrapped around him.

THE END. (Until Part Two, that is)


End file.
